Medium
by Waiting-for-a-mad-man-in-221b
Summary: Chloe's not sure she's ever felt such a strong presence. She doesn't care how much crap Ty is going to give to her for doing it, she has to talk to this man. An idea I got while watching Long Island Medium marathon today. It's sad, and poorly written, but I had to get it out.


"I know that face, Chloe."

Chloe sighs, dramatically rolling her eyes at her boyfriend. "It's not my fault, Ty," she explains, "I can't help it when these things happen." She adds as she scans the crowded coffee shop. "Trust me, I could if I would."

She spots him then, a defeated looking, pale man in the corner of the shop, sitting by himself, nursing a grande cup of coffee. She makes pleading eyes at Ty. She takes his eye roll as his queue that it's ok.

She approaches him gently, not wanting to spook him, "Hi," she says softly, startling him from what seemed to be a very deep thought. "I'm Chloe, I- this might sound a bit nuts, but I'm a medium and I was feeling a really strong presence sending me to you."

The man is silent; he looks blankly at her as if she were speaking Spanish. She usually doesn't tell them what their loved ones want them to hear until she has consent, because it might be too much and she doesn't like to scare people with her unusual gift, but this man just looks so lost. She can feel the presence telling her he needs this, so she gives him a little jump starting praying that it makes him believe her.

She gives the spirit permission to feed her thoughts, lets her mind be taken over by the images that he wants to pass on.

"Does Blackbird mean anything to you?"

The man's pale shivering hand comes up to cover his mouth before a sob can escape. He nods; squeezing his eyes shut to try to ward off the tsunami of tears he feels building up.

"Something to do with a first love?"

The man pull his trembling hand away from his face, a little sob erupting from the loss of pressure holding it in. "Y-Yes," he gasps out, breathless.

"And I'm being shown a tire shop, two men standing together?"

The tears he tried so hard to hold back fall over his cheeks, creating puddles on the table.

"My dad, he owned a tire shop. M-my husband," he takes a deep breath to try and steady his voice, "Blackbird was the song I sang that made him realize he loved me."

Chloe can't help but swoon a little, but she can also not help her heart from breaking a bit as the spirit reveals more to her.

"I'm seeing a younger man, but then I'm seeing an older man and an older woman. The woman is wearing old clothing, did your mother pass when you were young?"

"She died when I was 8."

"But your father passed recently?"

"Last May," he says gravely.

"And your husband? Even more recently?"

The tears that had calmed slightly began to cascade down the man's reddened cheeks with ever more force, but he stayed quiet, aware of the people around the watching warily.

"A week ago," he inhales a staggering breath, wipes at his eyes furiously, "that's why I'm in Ohio, for his funeral. We live in New York, he wanted to be buried here."

Chloe takes the seat across from him, grasping his hand. He is shocked for a moment, but he squeezes it and smiles back at her when she smiles at him warmly. "He says 'they're ok'."

He laughs sadly, shakes his head incredulously, "Jesus, Blaine, beyond the grave you still know exactly what I need to hear."

"He wants you to know he's ok too. I-did he pass from something to do with the back or the neck?"

"H-he," The man swallows down the lump building in his throat, "he was in a car accident. It-he snapped his neck."

Chloe nods, swallowing down a lump in her throat of her own. This poor man, he's lost everyone. No. Not everyone.

"First he wants you to know he didn't feel anything, he wasn't in any pain when he passed. And he wants you to know that he knows you're worried about raising your son on your own, but he says not to because you're a great father. He wants you to believe in yourself as much as he believes in you."

…

He pinches himself. He's absolutely astonished by what he's hearing. This can't be real. He's dreaming. Nothing as crazy as this could actually be true, yet he needs it to be. He needed to know all of these things so badly. He needed this closure, and now that he's got it he can't help feeling like this is all a dream. A tragically beautiful dream in which he wishes he never had to wake up. He wants them back. He want to be able to hold onto his mother, to be able to smell her perfume mixing with the scent of her shampoos, creating a scent that is so her that he could never recreate it no matter how hard he tried. He wants to be able to hug his father, work with him on cars, and watch boring sports games with him on Thanksgiving and watch musicals with him on Christmas. He wants to kiss Blaine. He wants to kiss him until they are both breathless; until they forget about the rest of the world and all the tragedy it has dropped on them.

He mostly wants all of them to be there to watch Olivier grow up. He wants nothing more than for Oliver to know his grandparents, to know his Daddy. But he won't. He'll never know how loved he was by him, though Kurt will assure him he was the thing Blaine loved most in the world, you can't really know the love someone has for you by hearing about it, you have to feel it.

Kurt can still feels Blaine's love; it's left behind in their sheets. The scent of his love had comforted in him on that third night, the first time he slept since it had happened. It's left behind in the little note he had stuck to the refrigerator that morning, saying they were out of milk, but he'd pick some up on the way home from work that evening, a little smiley face gracing the corner, something that was just so Blaine. He feels it whenever he steps into their bathroom and sees Blaine's stockpile of hair gels. He feels his love wrap around him as he put on Blaine's favorite playlist, swaying to the songs trying as hard as he can to keep his tears silent so that he can enjoy the music.

Kurt was afraid that their son wouldn't have these things to remember him by. He won't remember how Blaine used to take him to the park every Saturday; how he used to hold on to him as he swung them slowly since Oliver hated the baby swings. He won't remember Blaine singing to him every night to get him to fall asleep. He won't remember any of it. And that's what killed him the most.

But this-this girl is changing everything. Blaine is with him somehow. Watching over him, and Oliver. He's not just an empty body, six feet under. H-he's communicating with him! Trying to reassure him that everything will be ok. And maybe it will. If Blaine has found Burt and Elizabeth then there is no reason why they won't find each other again, when Kurt is old and can't stand to be apart from him for one more day. And when he's old Oliver will join them too, and they will be together again.

He can't kiss him, or hold him but he can suddenly feel him. He's all around, like maybe he was waiting for Kurt to realize that before he joined him again, but Kurt knows now that he's here he's not going anywhere again. He'll be with him, him and Oliver always. It's not the same as having him there physically, but the air of love and comfort around him is enough to bring a real smile to his face for the first time in too long.

"Thank you," he says earnestly, standing to hug the young girl who had given him so much of his life back in just a few short minutes. "Thank you so much. You don't know how much better I feel knowing all of this. I-I'm Kurt, by the way."

"It's nice to meet you, Kurt. I'm just glad I could help. Sometimes these readings are really hard, but not as hard as it would be to walk away knowing that people still have to wonder what's beyond, and who's waiting for them there. And you have so much love waiting for you, Kurt. So much more than you could possibly imagine."


End file.
